


The Gold of His Eyes

by Silverdragonwolveshowl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other, The Fall - Freeform, cherubim!aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 06:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdragonwolveshowl/pseuds/Silverdragonwolveshowl
Summary: Crowley accidentally reveals that he knew Aziraphale before the Fall, and has to make a decision.





	The Gold of His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic in this fandom so I really hope you like it!  
> Edit: I fixed the wording a bit, it was bothering me. Nothing major was added though.

Crowley had multiple names. He was Crowley and Anthony, but he also occasionally went by Ann or Camille, usually when wearing more traditionally female attire. Sometimes he said whatever name popped into his head. Oliver, Lilith, Maze, Sam, Lucas, even Ezra one time… for no specific reason. For 11 years he was called Nanny Ashtoreth, or Ash. However, before he was any of those, he was Crawly. And long ago, before the Earth even existed, before he was Crawly, he was Raphael. 

Raphael had multiple names too. Isrāfīl, Healer of men, Saint Raphael the Archangel, Patron Saint of Healing. He was a Divine Healer. But he asked too many questions, he started to doubt the Goodness of God, he refused to do things that were asked of him when he felt they were wrong or unnecessary. He thought humanity deserved better than what was planned for them. He hung out with another archangel, more outspoken than he, Samael (later renamed: Lucifer). And for that, he Fell. 

He remembered some things from before the Fall (but the Fall itself, he could never forget). Flashes of memories, mostly. A healing pool, a staff, beautiful wings, the stars… oh, the stars. He knew those well.

However, there were a few things he remembered  _ very  _ clearly. He had a friend. One friend. A cherubim, someone who ranked much higher than an archangel but didn't use that to their advantage, didn't seem to care about rank at all. Someone who was kind and a bit strange, in the eyes of most angels at least. But Raphael thought they were  _ truly  _ good _.  _ Aziraphale. 

Crowley had no idea if Aziraphale considered them friends like he did back then, if he even remembered him at all. Even still, it hurt when Aziraphale didn't recognise him that day on the wall of Eden. But though he didn't remember, Aziraphale was still kind to him.  _ Smiled  _ at him. Spoke to him. Even shielded him from the rain.  _ Him.  _ A  _ demon _ . Like it didn't even matter. 

And in that one moment, after the beautiful dumbass gave his flaming sword to the two humans (which later got him demoted to a principality) and kept Crawly dry from the first rainstorm, he fell again. This time, in love. Which, honestly, was  _ far  _ less traumatic, even knowing the angel could never feel the same. 

After the Almost-pocalypse 6,000 years later, Crowley was still arse-over-tit in love with his terribly oblivious best friend. Maybe more so, in fact. Although he was rejected no less than three times (the " _ you go to fast for me" _ incident, as well as the two " _ I will not run away with you to Alpha Centauri" _ incidents he would never speak of again), he couldn't stop loving his angel. But, he could accept the fact that his angel would never really… well, never be  _ his.  _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~β>

Crowley, from his sprawl across the couch, watched as Aziraphale set a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him. They had just gotten lunch at that new sushi place the angel wanted to go to and were now just relaxing in each other's presence. 

This happened more and more frequently since the world didn't end in fiery death. They’d have lunch, drinks, dinner, or just sit at the bookshop. Sometimes they had lunch, and Crowley would go back to his flat only to return later for dinner or something. They still had days apart, of course, but not nearly as often. Crowley definitely didn't mind that, and Aziraphale never complained, so it kept on going. (Actually, every time Crowley came back from his flat around dinner time, Aziraphale would have this smug grin on his face that both infuriated Crowley and made him kind of lightheaded.)

"Would you like to take a picture?"

Crowley blinked, taken from his thoughts. "What?"

Aziraphale smiled. A small, mischievous little thing. "You're staring at me, dear boy. Would you like a picture instead?"

" _ No. _ " Crowley sneered, ignoring the large part of himself that really  _ would  _ like a picture. Really, they'd known each other for millennia and he didn't have a single picture of Aziraphale- no, not going there… wait, who even taught the angel that phrase?

"Well then," Aziraphale began, setting his tea back on the table after taking a sip. "What's on your mind?"

A denial of some kind was on the tip of his forked tongue, but it died out at the sight of Aziraphale's soft, curious expression. "I, well… I was thinking about how different things are now, since the whole not-pocalypse thing."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. "Yes, that's true. We're on our own side now."

"I'm glad you can admit it." Crowley smirked, shades sliding down his nose a bit to leer at the angel. He was teasing, but it wasn't without truth. "I remember quite recently when you didn't even want to admit you liked me. I'm a demon, after all."

"Ah, well, things change." Aziraphale had the grace to look sheepishly apologetic. "You may be a demon, but you are also very… good. You could pass for an angel nowadays, if I can."

"Pff, nah. I was never a good angel. It’s better this way." Crowley answered. He never  _ regretted  _ falling, per say. It was definitely unpleasant… but he doubted he could have become this close to Aziraphale as an angel, so it’s worth it. Not to mention, he’d be terribly bored up there. And the world probably would’ve ended… Ah, no use thinking about hypotheticals. 

Aziraphale hummed again, this time more thoughtfully. "Do you think we'd be friends if you hadn't- em… if you were an angel?"

"We were."

~~I><I~~

_ Raphael stood between Uriel and Gabriel near the back of the huge crowd of Angels arranged by rank. The only ones not present were the seraphims, who stayed by God Herself and praised Her with reckless abandon (personally, Raphael found that a bit narcissistic, but that word had not yet been invented so it didn’t matter). In the front of the crowd, on a huge white pedestal, stood Michael. She was talking about something. Some new project with new life, or whatever. _

_ Of course, Raphael was not paying attention. He made stars and healed things, that was his job, so why did he have to attend this? He let out a sigh (ignoring the dirty look Uriel sent him) and glanced around. The archangels were situated with the guardian angels to their left, and principalities to their right. Next to the principalities were the powers, then the virtues, then the dominions, then the thrones, and finally, the cherubims.  _

_ Of course, being an archangel (especially one who spent most of his time in outer space) he didn’t socialise much with the higher ranks. Most of the lower ranked angels seemed to be afraid of him, or thought he was a bossy know-it-all like the other archangels.  _

_ In fact, he did not ‘know it all’. He knew very little. But apparently this didn’t bother the other archangels. Whenever he asked them questions they gave him a weird look. He eventually stopped asking them. _

_ Across the heavenly white room, something caught his attention. A cherubim. They were near the back of their group, like Raphael was, so they were fairly easy to spot. This cherubim was clearly  _ much  _ too excited about whatever Michael was talking about. They smiled (something he rarely saw  _ any  _ angel do, regardless of rank) and squirmed, gasped when Michael said something particularly intriguing, frowned when she said something they didn’t so much like. The cherubim was exceedingly expressive. He’d never seen anything like it. It was… weird. Good weird. Great, in fact. _

_ They caught Raphael staring and immediately straightened their posture, trying to look prim and proper. The sudden change in demeanor almost made him burst out laughing, but he managed to contain it. Only a broad, impish grin made it through his defenses. The alarmed flush on the cherubim’s cheeks only widened his grin. Eventually the cherubim returned the smile with a small, slightly embarrassed one of their own before pointedly looking back to Michael.  _

_ When the meeting was adjourned, Raphael tried to make his way over to the group of cherubims. But they were all gone. _

~~I><I~~

Aziraphale's eyes snapped to his own in shock. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but instead pressed back together in a thin line of confusion. 

Crowley spluttered to explain after seeing his expression. "I mean, I-I don't know if you even remember me, but, mmph-uh, we did talk a few times. So maybe we weren’t  _ friends _ , but I guess I kind of thought- ngh, well, never mind…"

Aziraphale's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Crowley trailed off. He took a moment to think. "I didn't even think about the possibility, but… we knew each other? What did you look like before? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Crowley sunk a sharp canine into his bottom lip. Not enough to bleed, just enough to feel the sting. He wasn't exactly comfortable with talking about his old life, but if he were to talk to anyone about it, it would be Aziraphale. They had been together over 6000 years after all. Well, not  _ together  _ but- ugh. He couldn't do this. "Uh, I'm not sure how different I look now, I don't remember much. No mirrors in heaven, ya know?"

"Hmm… Do you remember your name?"

~~I><I~~

_ Raphael found the Cherubim again, after Ramiel called him back from the stars to heal an angel who was sent to Earth and got bit by a lion in the Garden. Apparently the beasts were being quite aggressive. Didn’t take well to big, winged bipeds in their space, which he understood. He found all this out right before walking into the healing ward (the information only given to him because he  _ asked _ ), and locked eyes with someone very familiar. Ramiel left the room. It was quiet for a moment. _

_ “Well,” Raphael started, giving a grin. “Let’s see the damage.”  _

_ The cherubim grimaced and held out his arm. Golden blood flowed out of a large bite wound near their shoulder. The teeth left almost perfect impressions torn through the skin, into the muscles. It wasn’t too bad. Painful, though. _

_ Raphael gently took the upper arm in his hand, inspecting it quietly before carefully mending the skin. The Almighty gave all Angels these physical form with no warning long ago, but they easily embraced them. They didn’t have much choice, after all. In Heaven there was nothing that could harm them (unless one was particularly stupid). But since Earth was created and those strange living creatures sprouted up, more Angels started getting hurt. Nothing big, but more nonetheless. At least he could be useful, he supposed, put his healing to good use.  _

_ “That’s amazing!” The cherubim suddenly exclaimed, smiling brightly as muscles and skin mended together, golden blood flowed back into closing veins. _

_ Surprised at the compliment, Raphael paused, but quickly resumed, a smile twitching at his lips at the other’s enthusiasm. “I’ve seen you before, I believe. At that one dreadfully boring talk Michael gave. Were you the cherubim squirming around near the back?” _

_ They flushed in embarrassment, but huffed a reply. “Only if you were the archangel grinning like a fool.” _

_ Raphael let go of the cherubim’s arm to laugh loudly. The sound seemed to startle the other, which only made him laugh harder. After a moment he calmed down enough to nod, said foolish grin stuck on his face. “Yup, that was me. Can’t blame me though, not every day you see a cherubim not acting all menacing and holy.” _

_ “Maybe so,” They hummed, tilting their head and smiling in a way Raphael found strangely endearing. “Well, I’ve never seen any angel with hair like yours, darker than the night sky.” _

_ All angels had various hair colours. Brown, blond, even some more reddish colours. But no matter what colour, the closer one worked to God, the lighter their hair got over time (time: a concept that had just been invented on Earth). When he asked Michael about it (one of the last questions he ever asked her) she just said something about God’s heavenly light affecting the pigment. Whatever that meant. But since he worked far away, in the darkest corners of outer space, his hair remained inky black. He wasn’t the only one with black hair( Uriel had quite dark hair, with tight curls, very lovely) but he  _ was  _ the only one with such a pure, silky black. He liked it.  _

_ Raphael grinned and lightly patted the cherubim’s white-blond head before leaning back down to the lightly bleeding wound. This was the best conversation he had in a  _ long  _ time, but he knew it had to end eventually. “I’ll take that as a compliment, er… ” _

_ “It was. And my name is Aziraphale,” Aziraphale replied as Raphael took hold of his arm again and finished up.  _

_ “Aziraphale, huh? I’m Raphael.” _

_ Aziraphale smiled softly. “Wonderful to meet you, Raphael.” _

~~I><I~~

"It doesn't matter," Crowley dismissed, already regretting having brought it up. It was one thing not being recognised after the Fall, but if he had to hear that Aziraphale didn't remember him as an  _ angel  _ either- if those few conversations that meant so much to him meant so little to Aziraphale that he forgot them… 

Crowley got his limbs in order and stood up from the couch. "I should be going anyway. I'll see you later, angel."

Aziraphale gave him a concerned look, but nodded anyway. "Alright. See you later."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~β>

It took three weeks for Crowley to go back to the bookshop. He wasn't  _ sulking  _ (he wasn't!) he was just… managing his thoughts, in a way that involved plenty of sleep and yelling at his plants. He dreamed of the stars. Beautiful, bright, shining, colourful nebulae and endless star systems and swirling galaxies. Alpha Centauri was his favourite thing to create, even though now it was a bit tainted with memories of rejection. The two stars forever orbiting each other in an eternal dance… it seemed oddly familiar, in a way. A good way. 

With a deep, unnecessary breath, Crowley opened the door of the bookshop. The little bell jingled above him to signal his arrival, and he glanced around the cluttered shop in search of the angel. 

From the back room, Aziraphale called out, "We're closed!"

"It's me," Crowley grumbled back. He shifted his feet awkwardly, hands shoved in his pockets. 

It wasn't that he thought Aziraphale would be angry or anything. He didn't yell at the angel or say something mean, after all. He was just… nervous. 

"Ah!" Aziraphale exclaimed and stepped out with a bright, absolutely adorable smile that hid just a  _ hint  _ of 'I-knew-you'd-be-back' in his twinkling eyes. Beautiful bastard. "Come on in, my dear. Would you like some tea? Or I can make some coffee, but perhaps it's a bit late for that."

Crowley shook his head and attempted to act casual as he sprawled out on the couch like he always did. "Nah, just thought I'd, er… stop by."

"Hmm… well, you're always welcome here." Aziraphale gave him a soft, yet knowing look before he headed to the kitchen to make some tea. He could, of course, easily miracle some, but Crowley knew he liked the ritual. That, and the angel claimed it 'tasted better.'

Crowley nodded once. A comfortable silence settled over them, the only sound being the occasional clinking as Aziraphale set the kettle on the stove top. The bookshop always felt so calming. The slightly moldy scent Aziraphale used to try to keep customers out was barely detectable to him over the angel’s presence. Warm, pure. Divine, he’d say with mild humour. His eyes slid shut from behind his dark glasses as he relaxed on the couch completely. 

A few minutes later, the soft noise of a mug being set on a table roused him from his state of half-consciousness. Some disgruntled grumble passed through his lips as he opened his eyes again through the sleepy haze. Aziraphale sat opposite him, his winged mug steaming in his hands. Another mug sat on the table in front of Crowley. 

“Mmng. Told ya I didn’t need any, angel.” Crowley grabbed the mug anyway and sniffed it with a flick of his forked tongue. Peppermint. Not bad. 

~~I><I~~

_ The next time he saw Aziraphale was at another one of Michael’s boring meetings. Something about a new, more advanced life form God was planning. Raphael didn’t care. As soon as he could, he slipped away from the group of archangels and quietly snuck behind the other ranks to get to the cherubims.  _

_ Samael noticed immediately, but only gave him a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. Recently, Samael had gotten more outspoken. Raphael supported him in the beginning, but the way he spoke now made him a bit nervous. He spoke of free will, of rebellion, of war. Raphael was worried, but Samael was the only one who understood his desire to ask questions, his need to  _ know _. So he hung out with him and the group of lower-ranked angels Samael had acquired. When he wasn’t in the stars, of course.  _

_ Luckily, Aziraphale was in the back like before, listening with the same squirming excitement. He lightly tapped on the cherubim’s shoulder to get his attention. Aziraphale startled and quickly turned around, gaping when he saw Raphael grinning at him.  _

_ “Raphael, you shouldn’t be here!” Aziraphale whispered urgently. Michael was speaking loud enough that his voice wasn’t noticeable to anyone else. Or at least, they didn't react to it.  _

_ Raphael smiled wider, happy Aziraphale remembered him. “Nice to see you again, Aziraphale.” _

_ “ _ Raphael, _ ” The cherubim huffed in exasperation, “You should  _ not  _ be here. What if someone sees you? Go back to the archangels.” _

_ “Oh,” Raphael feigned hurt with a hand to his chest and sad eyes. He was joking around, but really, what would they do? Tell him to go back to his group? Make him leave entirely, go back to the stars? Give him a firm talking to? Whatever. No big deal. “You don’t want to see me?” _

_ Aziraphale rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a small, fond smile. “Not right now, no. But tell you what, if your superiors ever send you to Earth, you’re always welcome to visit me on the Eastern Wall.”  _

_ “Well,  _ you’re  _ my superior, _ ” _ Raphael pointed out with a grin. _

_ “I don’t give orders. Now, go  _ back _! I don’t want to see you get in trouble.” _

_ “That sure sounded like an order,” Raphael grumbled, but complied nonetheless.  _

_ Surely he had to go to Earth at  _ some  _ point. Maybe heal someone down there or something. Or, if he got impatient, he could always just sneak down. No one really checked up on him when he was up in the stars anyway, unless they needed him for something else. Eventually he’d get there. Just you wait, Aziraphale. He'd meet him on earth one day, for certain.  _

~~I><I~~

Aziraphale hummed lightly and picked up one of the books on the table next to him, a bookmark sticking out of its pages. “I know. Thought you could use some anyway.”

Silence stretched between them, broken by the occasional sound of Aziraphale turning a page. Crowley nursed his tea, taking small, slow sips as he watched the angel read. It was comfortable. Being in the bookshop was always comfortable. Anywhere Aziraphale went was comfortable to Crowley, but the bookshop itself had a special kind of warmth (not from the fire- he preferred to forget that) he enjoyed. It was better than his flat, anyway (which still stunk of holy water and melted demon no matter what he did).

Eventually, Aziraphale sighed and stuck the bookmark back between the pages of his book. “Crowley, I know we tend to not talk about things we don’t like, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry. It was terribly rude of me, and I'm sorry to bring up bad memories.”

Crowley blinked slowly, glad his sunglasses were still in place to help hide his surprise. “Er- it’s fine. They’re not really bad memories. Well, mostly. And I’m the one that brought it up in the first place, so…”

“Are you sure? It’s just, you left in such a rush, and then you didn’t so much as call- which is normal, I suppose, but after the Apocalypse we’ve been spending more time together, so I was a bit concerned.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Crowley smiled, only slightly happier than he should be at the fact that Aziraphale was worried about him. In that moment, he came to a decision. One that scared him, but would at least give him closure. “I… I want to tell you, but first I want to ask you something.”

“Oh wonderful!” Aziraphale looked excited. His hazel eyes sparkled and Crowley found it endlessly adorable. “Please go ahead.”

“Do you remember any of the angels that Fell? Names, faces, anything?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes, a few. I didn’t know many angels in general, I’m afraid. A few low-rank Angels, mostly. Obviously I knew of Samael the Archangel, although I never met him before, I remember seeing him sometimes.”

“Right, um…” Crowley trailed off, thinking of how to word it. He didn’t want to tell him right out who he was. That would be too easy, and too painful if Aziraphale really  _ didn’t  _ remember him. At least now he knew he had a chance at being remembered. “So, I created the stars. Most of them. That was my favourite thing to do. It was almost like painting, but so much better. All the colours and the bright shining swirling gases, the light hydrogen, helium…"

Aziraphale stared at him in wonder, but didn’t interrupt. 

“I was also considered a healer, but I didn’t do too much of that as an angel. Had my own pond, and a staff… thing. It was nice, though, while it lasted." 

"Do you miss it?" Aziraphale asked softly in the moment of silence.

Crowley smirked, then shrugged. "The stars, sure. All the time. But the healing… well, can't miss something you never really stopped doing, ya know? Oh, don't look at me like that." 

Aziraphale quickly schooled his smug smile into a more serious expression, obviously resisting the urge to say something like 'I knew it, you're not as bad as you pretend to be', the bastard.

"Anyway," Crowley continued. He turned his gaze to the ceiling. This is the part he was the most nervous about. "As you know, there really  _ aren’t  _ any mirrors in heaven, but, um, I do know… some stuff, about how I looked.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aziraphale lean closer, curious. 

“I wore green a lot, I think. Michael insisted, something about healers wearing green or whatever. My wings… I don’t remember the colour. Violet, maybe. They were big and fluffy. I liked them. Had four of ‘em.” He exhaled softly, getting a bit lost in the memories. “I-I had long hair. Black. Curly. Kinda like it was in Eden. And I think-” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped, a hand flying to his mouth. 

Crowley stopped to look at him and blanched at the tears welling in those hazel eyes. “Wh- angel, are you alright?”

“Oh,  _ Crowley _ ," Aziraphale breathed out, a tear rolling down his face as he lowered his hand to reveal a sad smile. "How could I have been so blind? This whole time- your  _ eyes _ , they're the same, beautiful.  _ Raphael _ ."

~~I><I~~

_ The last time Raphael saw Aziraphale was the day the rebellion began. Before Samael led his forces to fight, Raphael flew urgently to where he knew the cherubim forces were gathering in preparation. He had no idea if he was going to fight. He was a healer, not made for battle, but he might have to. And that terrified him. _

_ He spotted Aziraphale in front of a troop of angels, dressed for war. Aziraphale seemed to be their leader, which didn’t surprise him. He was a cherubim after all. _

_ “Aziraphale!” Raphael shouted, not caring about the looks he got from the other angels.  _

_ Aziraphale whipped around, eyes searching before they quickly settled on him. He strode over with efficient speed and gently but urgently grabbed Raphael’s arm. “What are you doing here? You should be getting ready with your troop, or in the healing ward, if that’s where you’re assigned.” _

_ Right. He never told Aziraphale that he was on the other side. What would happen if he told him now? Would Aziraphale smite him immediately? Would he be disappointed?  _

_ It didn’t matter. He knew Samael would lose this battle. They didn’t have nearly enough forces, or preperation. They were likely all going to die. He knew that, so he had to see Aziraphale one last time. “I-I just wanted to say... goodbye.” _

_ “What?” Aziraphale’s head tilted in confusion, a familiar gesture that made Raphael smile. “Goodbye? But- No, we’re going to  _ win _ , my dear. You’ll be fine. I know it.” _

_ Raphael barked out a laugh, then gently removed Aziraphale’s hand from his arm and gripped it tightly between his own. “There’s always a chance that I’ll die. And even if I don’t, I don’t think we’ll see each other again. I’ll be… farther away. So I just wanted to say it.” _

_ Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows, looking conflicted. Another cherubim shouted something and the soldiers raised their gleaning swords. Aziraphale glanced at them, then back to Raphael, then sighed with a concerned expression and nodded once. “Alright. Goodbye then, Raphael. I  _ do  _ hope we see each other again.” _

_ Raphael smiled softly and squeezed his hand before letting go completely. “Goodbye, Aziraphale.” _

_ Later, when the bloodshed was in full force, Raphael stood surrounded by the screams of the dying. He saw former friends skewer each other with swords, saw some Angels writhe in agony before falling through the ground itself. He had no idea where Aziraphale was, but hoped more than anything that he would be alright. Around him, angels wept. They screamed, they bled, they died, they fell, they  _ prayed _. And he turned to the sky, tears in his eyes, and begged for answers. _

_ “Why must we choose a side? Why must we kill each other? Why must the humans be the creature that comes between us? Why must we love them? Why must the humans suffer through illness, famine, pain, death, and everything else, just to end up here? Why did you replace us with these creatures? Why can’t we have free will too? Why is this your plan? Why aren’t you here? Where are you? How could you let this happen?” _

_ As the last words left his lips, the ground beneath him crumbled. Air rushed past him, making his eyes water more, and suddenly they burned. His whole body was on fire, engulfed in burning light. His wings were slowly consumed by an agony worse than anything any creature ever had or would experience. The blinding light bleached his hair white before the hellfire dyed it a permanent, fiery red. This time, the screaming he heard came from his own throat. Something was being ripped away from him, left him cold and starving. He fell for what seemed like eons, burning and twisting the whole time, before suddenly diving head first into a pool of boiling sulphur. His wings boiled black, his voice turned rough with smoke. His eyes, tainted by sulphur, shed tears of blood. He wailed. _

_ And Raphael was no more. _

~~I><I~~

A shiver goes down his spine at the sound of his old name, one he hadn't heard directed at him in a  _ very  _ long time. It almost hurt to hear it. He swallowed thickly, then nodded, averting his eyes. Only then did he hear the rest of what Aziraphale said- did he call his eyes  _ beautiful _ ? “My eyes are the same? But… they can’t be.”

Aziraphale stood and knelt in front of the couch. He slowly raised his hands, giving Crowley all the time in the world to stop him, carefully pulled the dark glasses from his face, and set them on the table next to his mug of peppermint tea. With an expression so tender it made the demon tear up, the angel gently cupped his cheeks, ran his thumbs under his eyes to catch the tears that escaped. Crowley let his irises expand, the yellow covering from corner to corner. "The colour, dearest. Their golden warmth, their kindness, the way they sparkle with mirth and mischief. Oh, Crowley, I can't believe this whole time I missed someone who was always here with me."

"You missed me?" Crowley asked incredulously, almost overwhelmed. 

"Of course I did, my love.”

Crowley sucked in an unnecessary breath. Love? Did Aziraphale call him his love? No, he called  _ Raphael _ \- no, no no no. Tears flowed faster, a soft cry slipping past his lips on his exhale. “You can’t- I’m not an angel a-anymore, he’s gone, you  _ can’t  _ love me. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Aziraphale looked shocked for a moment before realisation dawned. “No, dear, not Raphael. I love  _ you, _ Crowley. I loved you long before this, long before I knew who you used to be. And I’ll keep loving you, for long after this. I chose you. The one who was outraged at the thought of children being hurt, the one who made Hamlet famous at my request, the one who walked into a church for me and saved my books, the one who stopped time to make sure I would keep talking to you. You.”

“But- but I’m a demon.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale smiled, eyes filled with so much love that even Crowley could feel it. “And you’re  _ my  _ demon.”

Crowley choked out a laugh, his hands coming up to grip the edges of Aziraphale’s coat near his waist in an attempt to ground himself. He has always been Aziraphale’s demon, he knew that. But to hear him say it himself is something else entirely. Something… incredible.

As Aziraphale’s hands dropped from his cheeks Crowley pitched forward and buried his face in the crook of his neck. After a moment he felt those same warm hands press against his back, holding him close, and he shook with the sobs that finally escaped his throat. Oh, how he had longed to be this close to Aziraphale for the past 6,000 years. Oh, to have all his dreams come true in such a short time. He never felt so much, all at once. 

“A-angel _ , _ ” He cried, knuckles turning white as he fisted that tartan coat as tightly as possible. “ _ My _ angel, I love you, I love you so much.”

Aziraphale pressed his face into Crowley’s fire-red hair, arms wrapped firmly around the sobbing demon. “I love you too, my dearest. I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Crowley mumbled. He never thought this would ever be possible. He was happy just being near the angel. It didn’t matter that it took so long. What mattered was that it was  _ real,  _ it was happening. His angel loved him, like he loved his angel. Nothing could make this more perfect.

They stayed in a tight embrace until Crowley’s trembling subsided and his tears dried. Neither knew how long it took, and neither cared. When Crowley slowly pulled away enough to give Aziraphale a small but genuine smile, Aziraphale returned it tenfold and raised one hand to cup Crowley’s cheek again. Crowley’s smile grew, eyes practically glowing with adoration as he leaned into his angel’s touch.

“Crowley, love?”

“Yes angel?”

“May I kiss you?”

Crowley’s eyes widened and he swallowed thickly before giving a single nod, unable to speak. Kissing was a very human concept. Crowley had thought about it before, even tried it out once or twice, but he never understood it. It was just rubbing mouths. Surely it couldn’t be that amazing. 

Oh, he was  _ so  _ wrong. As Aziraphale’s soft lips pressed perfectly against his own his eyes fluttered shut and his entire body melted into the angel with an embarrassing noise he’d be sure to deny venomously later. His skin prickled and his insides burned like someone dunked him in a vat of holy water but instead of pain it was pure  _ bliss _ . He was easily lost to it.

Aziraphale lightly sucked on Crowley’s upper lip before swiping his tongue against it, sending delicious tingles down his spine. After a second, he realised he should probably contribute. His hands slid up into the angel’s light curls as he parted his lips to meet Aziraphale’s tongue with his own. He practically purred at the taste, as well as the sigh his angel breathed into him. Aziraphale swirled around all his senses, overwhelming him in the best way. His sweet taste, that musty old book smell, soft hair against his fingertips. Absolute perfection.

Although Crowley didn’t need to breathe, he was still panting when Aziraphale pulled away. He opened his eyes again, rewarded by the sight of a ruffled angel with red-kissed and swollen lips that smiled broadly. It was enough to shut down the only functioning part of his brain left after that kiss.

“Wow, nnnmmm… Can I get a wahoo?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow before giggling in amusement and pointing to something behind Crowley. “You silly old serpent.”

Crowley glanced behind himself and flushed when he realised his wings had burst out sometime during their kiss. He gave them a light flutter and decided to leave them with a foolish grin (ignoring that he, in fact, did not get a wahoo  _ again _ ) and rested his arms on Aziraphale’s shoulders before correcting him, “ _ Your  _ silly old serpent.”

“Right, of course.” Aziraphale’s smile crinkled his sparkling eyes into half-moons. He studied Crowley for a few moments, making the demon blush more under the scrutiny, before speaking again in a voice drenched in adoration, “Mine.”

They talked softly the rest of the night, holding each other close. Crowley told Aziraphale about the stars, about Alpha Centauri, about everything. In turn, Aziraphale listened, promised to visit Alpha Centauri with him one day, and pressed sweet kisses to the demon’s lips. 

And it was ineffable. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please comment even if it's just one word or something!!!!  
> Comments give me life and motivation to write more <3


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